


War's Wife

by nightsisterkaris



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Army, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied Sexual Content, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 14:40:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18263390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightsisterkaris/pseuds/nightsisterkaris
Summary: ''Mrs. Coulson,We wish to inform you that Private Phillip Coulson along with the entire 084 division was lost January 17th. There has been no response from any possible survivors. America thanks you and your family for your partner's service and sacrifice.''





	War's Wife

**Author's Note:**

> Any mistakes are mine. Any similarities to army member's family's lives (Dead or living) is purely coincidental. Enjoy!
> 
> -nightsisterkaris

 

    Melinda thought she knew what she had signed up for when she married an army man.

    But she hadn't expected so much  _worrying._

    The moment she woke up August ninth, she knew she wouldn't be seeing Phil for a long time. He was to report to the army base at noon sharp for his troop's send off overseas.  She had helped him pack his small bag yesterday, and they had used their last hours together well.

   They had woken up, quiets as she insisted that she herself would help him dress into his uniform. She had straightened his pins and patches, knot the tie, and squared his shoulders. Then pulled his hat over his eyes for good measure.

    He had driven to the base, gotten them in, and then ate lunch at eleven. Goodbyes were said, promises write and call were made, and then he was gone.

   They had correspondence for about four months before he warned that he might have to stop writing and calling due to the secrecy of their military movements.

   Then the letters and calls stopped, just as promised.Melinda worried. She panicked. She had one or two anxiety attacks.

   Then the official looking letter came.

   Opening the seal, she read;  

   _''Mrs. Coulson,_

   _We wish to inform you that Private Phillip Coulson along with the entire 084 division was lost January 17th. There has been no response from any possible survivors. America thanks you and your family for your partner's service and sacrifice.''_

   After that was a bunch of legal stuff surrounding condolences, financial support, funerals for unfound/unidentified bodies, and for a ton of other information that Melinda couldn't focus on.

    _No._

   She wouldn't accept this.

_'Private Phillip Coulson along with his entire division was lost-'_

   It resounded in her head.

    Sliding down the wall and to the floor, Melinda covered her face with her shaking hands. Her body quivered. _'Phillip Coulson along with his entire division was lost.'_

Impossible. Melinda was numb. She felt nothing at first. Warm sunlight dancing on her shoulders grew pale and cold. The sunroom with to many houseplants lost its glow. One hand fell to the floor, her nails digging into the polished brown woodgrain. Her vision flashed with red as she started to imagine him dying alone. Without her. Without help. In pain. Having not come home. Having not returned to her arms. Having not returned to someday raise a family with her.

   A knock sounded on the door.

   Melinda did nothing. 

   A knock repeated. The person let themselves in through the front door, making her way through the house. "Oh, Mrs. Coulson!" Daisy gasped, kneeling down, "are you okay?"

   Melinda tucked her head in between her knees. "Oh." Daisy exhaled, noticing the loosely-held papers in her hand. "Oh god,  _no_." Daisy sank down next to her neighbor's side. Melinda felt so tiny in this big wide world. She was small.  Melinda had been a size that she liked. A size that fit perfectly in Phil coulson's arms. A size that fitted his perfectly. 

   Daisy didn't touch her.

   It wasn't the time yet.

   _'Phillip Coulson. . . was lost.'_    

   Hair falling into her face, Melinda sat, trying to push images out of her mind. Images of him.

   Daisy knew she needed to go right now. Taking the cue (after several attempts to talk) that Melinda wasn't going to discuss anything, she left, closing the door behind her with a; "Don't do anything stupid."

   Melinda probably would have done something stupid if Daisy hadn't taken care of her, returning with food several hours later to pull Melinda up, and get her to eat. Melinda's backside was completely numb, having sat on the floor so long.

   She choked down Daisy's home cooked meal, suspicious that the young woman had gone home and started cooking for her. Daisy watched her eat, then took the dishes and cleaned them, letting Melinda sit at the table and read the letter over again for the hundredth time, denying the words on the page.  _'Phillip Coulson. . . was lost.'_

   Guiding the broken woman into the bedroom, she made sure Melinda would sleep before she left for the night.

   Melinda didn't sleep.

   The routine of Daisy checking on her in the morning and evening became repeated for the next few weeks. Melinda went to work, silent as she managed the gym downtown. She cried every time she received a check from the US army. 

   Months passed.

   Spring turned to summer.

   Summer turned to Fall.

   Fall turned to Winter.

   Repeat.

   Pictures faded. Memories didn't.

   Melinda struggled, cursing every stupid  _'update!'_ letter that the army had apparently forgotten to cancel for division 084 family. It always said the same thing, anyway. Slowly, the year passed. Daisy's idiot ex-boyfriend down the street tried to flirt every time she was outside. She ignored him. Until he told her to;  _"Let go, he ain't coming back anyway,"_ and that,  _"Maybe_ I  _can help you feel better."_

   She sued Ward for sexual harassment after multiple of these instances. She won.Ward left her alone after that.

    Daisy still checked in every other day.

    Melinda was sitting in the sunroom when a doorbell sounded.

   Sighing, she went to let Daisy in.

    Opening the door, Melinda dropped her mug of tea, the pottery smashing on the cement doorstep, spattering her bare feet and soaking into the foot mat. Melinda's heart beat faster. The sunlight danced again.  

   "Hey, Melinda." He smiled.

   She blinked. Impossible.  _'Phillip Coulson. . . was lost.'_

"But. . ." He engulfed her in his arms. Two years.

   It had been _two years._

   She fit perfectly in his arms. "You're, you're dead!" she pounded her fists. He _felt_ real.  _Looked_ real. He smelled of leather, metal and sweat. He Was here, and yet-

   "Its been two long, Melinda." Phil whispered in her ear.

   "You're dead!" Melinda cried.

   "No, I'm not." Phil frowned, lifting her face. "Look at me. I'm home, my love."

   "I, I got the letter." She whispered. "They said your division was lost."

   "It wasn't, Melinda. We went into a top secret location. They lost connection to us. Everyone thought we failed. But I'm home, Melinda."

   "They didn't _think_  to tell me you were okay." she breathed.

   "We were found a week ago." Phil explained. "I'm so, so sorry this happened, Melinda." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm so happy to see you, love."

   "Me too." Melinda whispered, elation swelling in her heart. She got to kiss him. She got to hold him again. He was home.

   "Please tell me you didn't do anything stupid." he pleaded.

   "Daisy pulled me through." Melinda answered, pulling him inside as she hefted his duffle bag again.

   Melinda was able to hear what he was allowed to tell, what isn't classified information. She saw his new scars, one cutting across his chest that left her frowning with concern. She saw that whatever mission he and his division had finished had broadened his shoulders, and firmed up the muscles in his chest and arms. Melinda was  _definitely_ going to check those out later.

   Then he showed her the hand.

    _He had lost his left hand._

   A clever, impressively designed bionic limb replaced his old one. Melinda hadn't even know it wasn't his real hand until he was shirtless and she saw the silver circle around his arm. He had been shy to remove it, but Melinda had coaxed it off, her fingers tracing the tender skin. "What happened?" She hushed.

   "Private Mackenzie saved my life. The hand had to go."

   "It was amputated?!"

   "Sort of. Kinda? He chopped it of in the middle of a skirmish."

   "What?" Melinda hissed. "Oh, dear, god that most have been traumatic." She chided.

   "It was." He admitted as they kissed again.

   There was nothing quite like the horrified look on Ward's face the next day as Melinda did Tai Chi in the sun room, Phil sitting and watching his wife perform her yoga and sip tea. The man had ducked back down, and not daring to look through the large glass windows of the Coulson home again.

   Melinda spent every minute -either sleep or awake- by his side. They were back to themselves again. He was home, he was safe, and he was her's, something she took advantage of every chance she got. 

   Melinda would watch his every move, afraid that this dreamscape would dissolve and she'd open her eyes to those awful words again. 

   But here they were, together, and  _Phillip Coulson. . ._ wasn't  _lost._      

 

 


End file.
